If I tap my pen an arm’s length away,
It’s very quiet, I may hear it, only may.
When I bring it all the way to touch my lobe,
Of my ear, not inside my globe,
It’s more like a door sword fighting with wind,
Makes my eardrum feel raw and skinned.
If I see a speck up high in the sky,
It might look as small as a fly.
When it comes closer with fire in its wake,
The ground I’m on starts to shift and quake,
It looks bigger, three miles across?
At least it doesn’t matter that I forgot to floss.
I guess the same goes with our issues,
If they’re others’, we don’t need tissues.
Bears squatting in my town? Business as usual.
But when they’re in my house, nothing more crucial.
For some reason I find this very dumb,
A problem is a problem no matter where from.
Mine or yours? Who gives a rat’s ass?
Let’s just solve it and sleep on the grass.